Category: About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible

A shimmering golden bay.

Gazing down at the sunlit waves that glistened like gold, John was lost in thought. Who could have predicted that even after becoming Emperor, nothing would go his way?

His brothers had transformed from allies into rivals, and his enemies remained as formidable as ever. With so much happening, what was the right course of action?

The chance for reconciliation with his brother, Konstantinos, which should have been a united effort for the revival of the empire, was now lost. The moment Konstantinos demanded the establishment of an archbishopric in Morea, the possibility of coexistence between the central government and Morea vanished.

Declaring that they would no longer adhere to the authority of the church signified much. If his brother’s demands were met, it would effectively create two nations under one banner.

Morea had to be kept in check.

Only through a strong, centralized unity around the capital could victory be achieved. If his brother and Morea resisted, another civil war could engulf the empire. Confronting their enemies was crucial, but internal division would be disastrous.

Thus, John had deliberately withheld information about the blockade of Edirne. It was time to make it clear, despite Morea’s growing influence, that the central government had not entirely fallen.

There was still a need for close cooperation between Morea and the central government, and if anyone had to bow, it should be Morea.

A month passed.

Unfortunately, it seemed John’s efforts had failed. Morea continued to govern central Greece independently, and they went further by absorbing officials dispatched by the central government into their own faction. These officials, recognized for their abilities, showed no hesitation in pledging loyalty to the capable prince.

Though fuming with betrayal, John could understand.

In contrast to himself, who had achieved little, his brother, who had shown promise from a young age, had begun the grand reclamation of Greece. Yet, wasn’t it an unfair fight, where he hadn’t even been given an equal opportunity?

Why was he preemptively convinced that he couldn’t accomplish what his brother had? This was John’s grievance. Supporters of his brother, Konstantinos, echoed these sentiments.

They argued it was right to support the proven prince over the unproven John. Among those who said this was their father, Manuel, who looked at him with an expression of pity but without any sense of remorse.

Yet, beneath the jealousy and denial, there was an accumulation of resignation and despair. The more he denied, the more these thoughts grew. The more he tried to ignore them, the more they loomed.

Could I truly achieve what Konstantinos did?

His brother, who abandoned his path to the throne to secure an alliance for the empire, swiftly seized central Greece at a desperate moment. Could he have so easily forsaken the throne? Could he have resisted the allure of the thousand-year empire’s crown and done what needed to be done with such confidence?

The turmoil persisted for hours.

Eventually, footsteps echoed faintly.

“What weighs so heavily on your mind, Your Majesty?”

John immediately recognized the voice’s owner, cold though it sounded now. She was a woman who masked her passion with a façade of coldness. Joannina Kantakouzenos, a determined woman who, despite being rejected, immersed herself in the whirlpool of mystery and politics to remain by the side of the man she loved.

Initially, John had been captivated by her boldness, but he found himself increasingly drawn to her. She was a woman of extraordinary beauty and considerable intellect, who harboured deep affection for a single person. Had his self-control been weaker, he might have cast aside all promises and embraced her long ago.

However, the promise he made to her was bound by the honor of an emperor.

If he did not even have that, who would regard him as Emperor? Who would elevate someone lacking the pride and honor of an Emperor to the throne? Thus, John had spent years in solitude, never laying a finger on her, hoping she would take an interest in him and approach—just as she had now.

“Joannina, you must be quite pleased with Morea’s growth, aren’t you?”

“Your Majesty?”

“I mean, watching the man you admire rise so triumphantly must fill you with satisfaction.”

“…Are you jealous?”

Jealousy—yes, jealousy.

It was absurd to be jealous. As the ruler above all earthly monarchs, why should he envy a mere prince of Morea? Yet, Jogn envied and admired Konstantinos. Himself, a mere prince without the title of Emperor, and Konstantinos, who, even without the title, had earned recognition by standing against the Ottomans.

Those who followed him did so out of hope for his authority, while those following his brother were drawn by his accomplishments.

Even the beautiful woman at his side was looking at his brother, not him.

Unknowingly, John clenched his teeth. Where were those who held expectations for him, the Emperor? Yet, such base feelings were unbecoming of an Emperor. Concealing his true thoughts, he offered a gentle smile.

“Of course not. I’m merely ashamed of myself for achieving nothing while my brother has accomplished so much.”

Joannina’s blue eyes momentarily reflected suspicion and caution, but soon they softened with warmth.

“Even so, is he not still one of your vassals? Rather than opposing him, wouldn’t sharing imperial authority with him be a wise choice?”

“Sharing imperial authority…”

It was a sensitive issue, and John’s irritation was understandable. Yet, his reason whispered that it was not a bad idea. If the empire, already divided between Morea and the capital, were left as it was, a split would inevitably occur. If they ascended as co-emperors before that, at least they wouldn’t be fighting each other with the Ottomans at their doorstep. His brother, who had fought solely for the empire’s survival against the Ottomans, would ask for no more.

Though he didn’t want to admit it, though he wished to be the sole supreme ruler…

Following Joannina’s proposal might end his feud with Konstantinos. He knew well enough who the real enemy was. The vision he had long dreamed of resurfaced. If they acted on this plan, John and Konstantinos would be remembered as brothers united in saving their faltering homeland.

But that wasn’t all.

“And Joannina, you would then have the opportunity to choose between the two co-emperors.”

In the distant future, when Konstantinos and John inevitably clashed, each vying to be the sole autocrat, the support of the prestigious Kantakouzenos family, with Joannina as empress, would determine who amassed greater power. Joannina would be elevated from a mere empress to a decisive player capable of overturning the political landscape.

To this, Joannina responded with a subtle, mysterious smile.

“Everything is settled, Your Majesty.”

The words came from a loyal Janissary, part of the Sultan’s elite guard. At that moment, Murad, seated on the throne, knew that all preparations were complete. For a full month, he had worked relentlessly to solidify his position, purging potential rivals. This had the unified support of the entire Ottoman court.

They had learned from past experiences what their greatest vulnerability was.

Reflecting on the events following the death of Bayezid, a formidable conqueror, it was inevitable. The Ottomans had been forced into a decade-long rest, held back by succession laws that were not properly established due to their nomadic roots. Even the Sultan did not have the authority to alter centuries-old traditions swiftly.

But with multiple claimants to the throne, conflict was inevitable.

Thus, only one remained.

Murad was, by all accounts, the most suitable successor, armed with ambition, exceptional abilities, and the trust of his subordinates from a young age. Unlike the weak-willed Mehmed, Murad knew how to wield power.

He had also pledged to fulfil an ancient prophecy, promising to one day transfer the thousand-year-old city to the Muslims.

A ruler of true tolerance, destined to spread the true faith among the Christians who still clung to their old beliefs.

The court’s theologians and nobles praised him as such, and the Janissaries, too, preferred Murad over the soft Mehmed, who shied away from conflict. Hence, despite the suspicious circumstances surrounding Mehmed’s death, they easily supported Murad.

Determined to prove that their decision was right, Murad had devoted himself to eliminating other claimants as soon as he became a prominent contender.

The result was clear.

No one remained within the country who could threaten Murad’s position. Yet, even Murad could not completely dispel the shadows cast by the former ruler’s weak resolve. The Christians had a chance to unite against the Ottomans once more, and two claimants to the throne—both coincidentally named Mustafa—had fled.

One Mustafa, having already been defeated once, might not inspire much awe among warriors. However, Murad’s younger brother, who had yet to prove his worth, remained a formidable threat.

His favouritism by the late ruler and his youth were enough reasons for him to eye Murad’s position. Naturally, as Sultan, the right decision was to eliminate such a danger.

“You won’t easily kill your brother.”

Their father, the former Sultan, had mocked Murad one last time before closing his eyes. Despite the hurried blockade of Edirne and the ruthless killings, Mustafa had not appeared, just as their father had predicted. Murad deduced that Mustafa had fled to their enemies, reinforcing his belief that his actions were correct.

Their father had prioritized the safety of his favoured child over his duties as a ruler, making him unfit for the Sultan’s throne. Yet, Murad closed his eyes, feeling a dull ache in his chest.

What words could express the complex emotions left behind, mingled with disappointment toward his father? Unable to answer this question, Murad rose from his seat.

Soon, everyone in Edirne would learn of the new Sultan’s ascension.

Without anyone to oppose and with overwhelming support from the court, Murad sat on the throne once more, gently stroking the sword of the first Ottoman Sultan in his hand. Who would have thought a mere band of wanderers could forge an empire? What seemed impossible had been made possible by divine will.

But the divine never allows success to come lightly, always arranging trials to test the faith of believers. As Murad mentally reviewed the state of affairs, he posed a question to the court’s scholars, retainers, and warriors.

“Your Sultan asks you, who are our enemies?”

The elderly theologian was the first to respond.

“If you ask who our enemies are, I would say the atheists. But if Your Majesty asks about your personal enemies, then it is the Christians.”

“I would name Porphyrogenitus of Rome (born to the purple), the one reigning as the Despot of Morea, as His Majesty’s enemy.”

( TL : Porphyrogenitus is a title of respect shown towards Byzantine Empire )

“Are you referring to Dragases?”

Though Dragases’ power and reputation might not yet match those previously mentioned, Murad found himself nodding in agreement with the Janissary’s response. Surprisingly, others also seemed to acknowledge this notion. However, a rationale was needed. At Murad’s inquiring glance, the Janissary began to elaborate on their thoughts, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“It’s a fact that many did not believe, but it was Dragases, only twelve years old at the time, who led the unification of southern Greece. He persuaded the Emperor to unify Morea and spent the last seven years reorganizing it, driven solely by his hatred for us.”

“He also benefited from the indecisiveness of the late ruler.”

“Yet, had we struck Dragases, we would not have escaped without significant losses. The timing of Venice’s and Sigismund’s interventions was no coincidence. Moreover, the swift control over Athens and Thebes was nothing short of astonishing.”

( TL: Sigismund is the King of Hungary )

“…You’re suggesting that the rebellion led by the elder Mustafa was likely a scheme orchestrated by the Empire.”

“And it’s undeniable that Dragases is intricately involved at the heart of this sinister plot in some form.”

Only then did Murad understand why he so readily accepted Dragases as an enemy. Dragases possessed capabilities that had almost been overlooked due to the prior ruler’s poor judgment. From a young age, he had vowed to save his crumbling nation, honing his blade of vengeance for nearly a decade.

Consider his skill in leveraging surrounding circumstances to achieve the best possible outcomes. His quick judgment and decisive actions in the face of adversity were qualities that could not be overlooked.

The more Murad pondered, the more he realized that Dragases was, in many ways, his rival.

As the ruler of the Ottomans, aiming for global dominance from humble beginnings,

Conversely, Dragases appeared as the “last lighthouse” at the twilight of a fallen thousand-year empire.

True honor can only be claimed by defeating a worthy adversary. If Murad sought to become the new sultan, he must first dismantle the remnants of old glory. He felt his heart swell with anticipation. The stronger and more honorable the opponent, the more brightly he would shine.

Indeed, Dragases was his “rival.”

A divine ordeal, seemingly arranged by fate itself. The inevitable clash between two forces at the brink of history, stirring the fervor of youth within him.

On this day, Murad realized with clarity who his true adversary was.

While the prince busily maneuvered, Sophia moved with equal diligence, careful to remain unnoticed.

Naturally, Ivania, ordered to keep a close watch by the prince, did not miss these movements. Sophia had become a thorn in Ivania’s side, having taken the spot beside the prince that Ivania wanted. With a bright smile, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman approached Sophia.

“It would be wise to avoid any rash movements, Princess.”

Ivania issued her warning with a confident posture. However, Sophia remained unfazed, countering with a new proposal.

“…Now that I think about it, you’ve had feelings for His Highness, haven’t you? How about this: I’ll turn a blind eye if you were to have an affair with him.”

“?!”

Thus, the negotiation was a resounding success. Thanks to Ivania’s silence, Sophia urged her father, Stefan, to raise an army once more with Hungary’s support. Yet, as Sophia struggled, the prince, her competitor, achieved victories effortlessly. His accomplishments included the remarkable recapture of Athens and central Greece.

This stood in stark contrast to Serbia, which barely avoided missteps and remained anxious.

Centered around the prince, Morea swiftly secured control over the reclaimed territories, demonstrating the prince’s exceptional decisiveness and judgment. It was only then that Sophia realized she had underestimated the prince, despite her high regard for him.

She lacked the tactical experience to comprehend his prowess fully.

However, she acutely felt his strength in the unstable balance of power. Defeating the formidable Ottomans underscored his capabilities. Sophia’s thoughts shifted; continuing to oppose the prince would only push her further from power.

‘Improving my relationship with His Highness is essential.’

Though he might lack finesse in dealing with women, as a leader guiding a nation, there was none quite like him. Had her father, Stefan, been half as capable as the prince, such blunders wouldn’t have occurred.

Now that Stefan had practically submitted to Hungary, Sophia had no allies to support her. Bowing to the prince was a highly rational decision.

From that point, Sophia utilized her greatest strength—her network of Jewish spies—to gather rumors that would pique the prince’s interest. While informing him of Constantinople’s reactions wasn’t a bad idea, Sophia knew it wouldn’t truly captivate him. Understanding the prince to some extent, she focused her efforts accordingly, and the results were successful.

The prince’s eyes flickered upon hearing Sophia’s news of “Edirne’s blockade.”

Sophia relayed all the information she had to the prince. Although she couldn’t provide details about the city’s internal situation due to the Ottomans’ thorough blockade, she ensured he understood that something significant was occurring within the Ottoman court.

“At a time like this, Edirne’s under blockade…”

Even as he muttered to himself, the prince’s mind was racing with countless thoughts. Why was the capital suddenly sealed off now, after the war had ended? This was a scenario he had always feared, but the timing made it even more alarming. The flood of words that passed through his mind further fuelled his anxiety.

One word stood out most clearly…

“A coup, perhaps.”

Sophia’s offhand remark struck the prince, catching him off guard and shaking him. If a aggressive ruler were to replace the current sultan, who had chosen diplomacy over war, the implications were clear. Could he have managed the situation better if he had known the sultan’s political foundation was so fragile?

…His brief contemplation soon concluded with a resounding no.

Even if one hoped for the current Sultan’s regime to continue, the recapture of central Greece was a necessary development for the Empire to prepare for a counteroffensive. It was a swift and correct decision to act when Serbia began to act recklessly, even if it led to the downfall of the friendly Sultan.

Meanwhile, the prince shuddered at how little was known about such a significant event. To only now learn of a nation’s capital being blockaded was alarming. He could not claim he hadn’t been paying attention; all of the Empire’s intelligence efforts were focused on monitoring their nemesis, the Ottomans. Yet, to be outpaced by a private organization belonging to a foreign princess reflected the Empire’s decline.

Alternatively, the central government might have abandoned further cooperation, threatened by Morea’s growing insubordination. The possible causes were numerous, but as always, there was a lack of time and funds to address the root issues. The prince needed strategic assets he could deploy immediately.

Of course, the possibility that Sophia was lying could not be dismissed.

He entertained the notion that she might be stalling for time with some deceptive maneuver. Yet, what could she achieve by stalling? Nothing came to mind. Despite this, the prince couldn’t shake his wariness of Sophia. Her actions still bore many dubious aspects, making his caution understandable.

But…

‘A tenuous path to the future.’

Amid overwhelming national weakness, this much had been achieved. Though it might be challenging now, gradually building strength could eventually reverse the balance of power.

Thus, the prince’s primary goal was to overcome the darkest “present.” In that context, Sophia’s proposal was, in many ways, familiar. Just as the Empire had sold its ports before, it had to sell its future to survive the present.

The future can only be found by overcoming the present.

Repeating this thought endlessly, the prince looked up at Sophia. The seductive smile on her greedy face suggested she knew his answer was already decided, exuding confidence. The prince wasn’t generous enough not to be irritated by her demeanor.

Yet, irritation, pain, and distress were mere emotions compared to his resolve to protect the Empire. Pursuing a rational decision, the prince gave Sofia the answer she sought.

“The terms?”

“The same as before. We’re re-negotiating from the start.”

Empress, huh. An empress involved in an affair could easily be deposed. No matter how she struggled, the proud Empire’s nobles would not tolerate such a scandal. If the aristocrats’ protests were combined with an accusation of breaking marital vows, annulling the marriage would be simple.

‘If I can use her until then, I will.’

Whatever scheme she was planning didn’t matter. The prince resolved that no matter how Sophia tried to entrench herself, he would uproot her entirely.

“I am honored to have such a wise wife, madam.”

“Heh… As expected, what a remarkable change in attitude. I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

Were those eyes filled solely with greed, or did they also harbour contempt for the prince’s change in stance? Their cold exchange of gazes contained nothing but mutual wariness.

There was no exchange of trust between them.

The meeting between Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Prince Constantine was highly successful.

The prince officially declared Plethon’s repentance and formally requested the establishment of an archbishopric in the ever-growing Morea. Naturally, the ancient capital, Constantinople, was thrown into an uproar.

Some condemned it as an unforgivable act, others feared that Morea had definitively turned its back on the central government, while the rest simply observed the situation with an unsettling silence.

Particularly unexpected was John’s reaction. Contrary to his usual attitude of keeping his brother in check, the young emperor remained emotionless and avoided commenting on the archbishopric.

Nevertheless, the matter of the capital would come later.

Immediately after demanding the establishment of the archbishopric, the prince began leveraging Plethon’s reputation as a scholar to persuade the southern Greek nobility.

Although the honor gained by supporting a distinguished scholar or artist was intangible, it always bewitched the nobles, especially when the person advocating for Plethon’s academy was the ruler of Morea.

Merchants, intrigued by these developments, responded positively to supporting the academy. The prince treated them with utmost favour, not solely for financial reasons. Merchants, with their extensive travels across various nations and cities, knew many influential individuals.

The prince believed it was essential to cultivate these relationships, anticipating a time when the academy would flourish and attract exceptional scholars and artists.

Thus, even amidst the growing tension between Morea and the capital, the matter of supporting Plethon’s academy proceeded smoothly. The prince himself found it hard to believe, murmuring, “This can’t be… It shouldn’t be this easy,” as he nervously bit his fingers.

Of course, a playful maid who witnessed this spread the truth, only to be swiftly dismissed as unbelievable. This is why building a strong reputation is crucial.

Fortunately, the prince’s concerns proved accurate…

Solving one issue only led to another. This was the inescapable fate of a ruler, but still, this felt excessive. The prince, having briefly shaken off his usual stern demeanor, let out a deep sigh. Those familiar with him would be startled by such a sight. However, those who had observed him since long ago would feel differently.

They would recall the bright boy who once ran around joyfully with a loose screw or two.

In reality, this was a relic of the prince’s darker days, before he realized the harshness of reality, when he naively believed the world was his personal paradise.

Tragically, his youthful eagerness to impress women, despite his sincere efforts, was futile—after all, how many women would be attracted to a child under six? Moreover, his attempts at impressing were too intense for a 30-year-old virgin, ultimately coming off as a plea for playmates, stirring motherly instincts instead.

There’s always a reason for being a virgin at 30.

When he finally gained popularity with women, he had already grasped the weight of his position and the grim reality, resolving to save the empire. He resigned himself to the thought, “I was never meant to succeed.”

Yet, merely having such thoughts was evidence of the prince’s transformation.

Despite the somber reflections, the prince once again thought of “romance.” A change that hadn’t occurred for many years had begun. The days spent desperately struggling to overcome the present continued, filled with urgency and anxiety. However, now, the prince possessed a new strength he hadn’t had before.

Confidence.

It might be tiny compared to the overwhelming might of the Ottomans, but hope had emerged. Morea, experiencing a rebirth after two centuries, was rising as a center of resistance, and the Ottoman expansion had slowed.

It wasn’t arrogance; the empire’s strength was still insufficient to defeat the Ottomans. Hence, the war party’s fervor was understandable. The grave issue was that, while he knew his limits, the war party did not.

Naturally, as his confidence grew, so did his resentment toward those who treated him merely as a tool.

The prince, now more composed but with a hint of irritation, gazed at the girl before him. Although she was two years older than him, categorizing her as a young woman rather than a girl seemed appropriate.

Her clothes were surely a bright yellow, yet they appeared almost black, likely due to the decadent aura she exuded. However, what seemed like seductive charm was, in fact, something entirely different.

The discerning eye honed through chaotic experiences spoke to him.

That decadent aura and gaze that seemed to melt were not the result of seductiveness. Instead, it was the sheer magnitude of her greed that disguised as lust. As far as the prince knew, no one embodied such overwhelming greed as this woman. Even John, who had turned against him, seemed noble by comparison. This woman, bowing her head submissively, spoke softly.

“It seems I’ve been utterly defeated. Your abilities far exceeded my expectations, Your Highness.”

Frankly, to be honest, the display Sophia presented to the prince did not move him in the slightest. Although they were husband and wife, her actions in the war just a few months prior had posed a significant threat to Morea. Had the prince not made the bold move of engaging Ivania, the consequences could have been catastrophic.

“It feels like only yesterday you fled in tears, yet here you are, composed.”

“It’s not wise to provoke a woman too much. The resentment a woman harbours can be sharper than any blade.”

“Sophia, you and I have walked such different paths that speaking of gender between us is irrelevant.”

Even though the prince had become more composed and had begun to think of romance, his primary concern remained the survival of the empire and the defeat of their nemesis, the Ottomans. Sophia was acquired solely for that purpose. If she proved unhelpful, he was prepared to cut ties without hesitation.

“Hmm. I’ll commend you for acting swiftly upon receiving Hungary’s support. But hasn’t this rendered Serbia practically a vassal state of Hungary? The alliance formed through our marriage has likely been shattered by my betrayal.”

“Precisely why I concede defeat, Your Highness.”

Despite the string of provocations, Sophia merely wore an enigmatic smile. Watching her carefree expression, the prince bit his tongue slightly. Had he grown stronger? It seemed every woman he encountered was either mad or ruthless. Strong women who would squeeze an ordinary man dry. Lacking any warped lust, the prince had no desire for such strong women, repeating this to himself countless times while remaining vigilant.

And sure enough.

“Therefore, I offer myself to you, not Serbia’s military might.”

Sophia’s confident smile appeared. Surely she wasn’t proposing her body.

“Well, you’re a smart woman, so you must know I don’t desire your body…”

The prince pondered what Sophia had to offer. Her overwhelming greed, her scheming creativity, and above all, her most valuable asset.

“You know something.”

Her network, leveraged through the Jewish community, offered intelligence far more valuable than Serbia’s military might. Having been crushed by the Ottomans thrice, their morale was likely at rock bottom. It might be more beneficial to acquire alternative assets than to rely on such allies. The prince quickly weighed his options and made his decision.

“Ha, you truly are worthy of the throne. Had we met under more friendly circumstances, we could have been excellent partners.”

“Get to the point.”

“So curt… Very well, as a gesture of goodwill to mark the end of our chaotic relationship, I shall share this.”

Sophia then revealed the news that the prince would find most concerning.

“The Ottoman capital, Edirne, has been completely sealed off.”

It was true that I had hesitated until now.

Originally, I had no desire for the throne and avoided this path due to concerns about the potential repercussions. The establishment of an independent archbishopric in Morea was a dangerous decision. Reflecting on my father Manuel’s original vision of divided rule in Morea, he believed that the presence of large local Independence powers would significantly hinder the future unification of the empire.

This vision crumbled when a single person became the Autokrator – the absolute ruler – of Morea. I, too, had tried to adhere as much as possible to the central government’s control, fearing the long-term negative impact.

However, if the central government continued its misjudgements and control, the situation would change. Establishing an archbishopric would be a new measure to block such interference from the central government.

If Morea’s independent archbishopric were established, it would become much harder for the central government to suppress Morea using the authority of the Patriarch. Naturally, this would provoke strong opposition from many priest and the central government.

However, even if they refused to approve the archbishopric, it wouldn’t be a total loss. If it fell through, it would only sharpen the conflict between Morea and the capital.

From the day John turned against me, I decided deep in my heart to walk an independent path from the capital without anyone noticing. The opposition to the capital in Morea would translate into support for their sovereign, me.

One should never underestimate the support of the people. Though the empire emphasized bloodline succession, it only did so when accompanied by a certain level of competence. If someone with far superior ability and reputation appeared, they could challenge the throne.

If the day comes when John expels pro-Morean forces from within the capital, that will be the moment the war between brothers breaks out. This is the reason behind my proclamation to establish the archbishopric. I don’t truly expect it to succeed; I only hope the message as a powerful warning will be conveyed.

If the central government of the empire remains uncooperative, Morea will no longer bow to its authority and history.

Due to the surprise nature of my announcement, the court descended into chaos. Half were in shock, while the other half were moved.

The fact that Morea’s prince, the emperor’s brother, openly opposed the central government and Emperor John VIII, suggested a growing ambition for the throne. Moreover, most people in Morea supported me over John. This background allowed me to make such a bold statement.

Even Bishop Nikephoros, who had been intensely opposing me, knelt with tears streaming down his face. He had long urged me to become emperor. Perhaps realizing that I had finally decided to become emperor, he barely managed to speak with trembling lips.

“How many have awaited this decision! How many people of Morea, how many of Greece, have watched with hesitant breath until Your Highness made this choice!”

His excessive flattery made my cheeks flush. Ahem, it slightly broke the calm demeanor I usually maintained. Nevertheless, I was experienced enough to quickly calm the storm within and bring the main issue, sidelined by the surprising announcement, back into focus.

“Can we now prove Plethon’s innocence? Can you tell me that I have chosen the right path as the protector of the church?”

“Your Highness, I can no longer dare to question your decision. How could I oppose the just cause of leading a person astray by false heretical knowledge back to the righteous path as the protector of the church? How could I rebuke a protector who will drive out those Muslims who have defiled the holy cross and invaded this land?”

With Bishop Nikephoros, who had opposed most strongly, now completely reversing his stance, the court’s atmosphere transformed.

No one voiced objection. Everyone bowed their heads, filled with excitement and joy. I turned my head to glance at the gathered retainers.

Tax Collector – Skellarios – Adrianos. A spirited young man who was appointed at a relatively young age, initially working as a tax collector but recently frequently deployed due to the intensifying conflict with the Ottomans.

Imperial Judge Demicleos. Appointed by Manuel’s command, he is considered the most seasoned and has reached the mature stage of his career. He successfully expelled the Latins, established a people’s assembly, and enacted laws suited to Morea’s situation, proving himself an excellent bureaucrat.

Bishop Nikephoros. Though not prominent, he prevented the large-scale suppression of Latins by the public, eliminating the potential for new conflicts, and thus is considered a moderate.

Leading these figures were many vassals gathered in the court of Mistra. They were a diverse group, each unique in their way. While some might be similar, none were identical. Some sought advancement, others were drawn by wealth or honor, but all shared a common mission:

To breathe new life into the decayed thousand-year-old empire.

There was a time when I was so repulsed by the sight of people who had despaired and resigned that I resolved to lift them up by force if necessary. At that time, I didn’t even consider how long it might take. But now, as I stand in this moment, I realize I had the wrong perspective.

Even if they had despaired and resigned, the people had not collapsed. It was now time to meet those who had continued to struggle in their own way.

Georgios Gemistos Plethon.

This great scholar awaited our meeting.

//

The prince who declared the establishment of the archbishopric, signalling his intent to fully engage in the struggle for the throne.

The events at the court of Mistra quickly spread throughout the Balkans. Naturally, upon hearing the news, John slammed his desk in fury. Yet, a far more crucial meeting took place in the Balkans: the encounter between Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Prince Constantine.

As the two exchanged opinions, they realized that their paths aligned.

However, they diverged sharply on the crucial issue of the church.

“The union of the church and empire has lost its efficacy. Every time the church has split over doctrinal doubts, the empire has been torn apart. If Your Highness truly wishes to rebuild the empire on a solid foundation, shouldn’t you ensure such divisions don’t repeat?”

Plethon argued, quoting a thousand years of history, that the empire must find a way to remain intact even if the church fragmented. He recognized the recurring social conflicts that arose from different interpretations of doctrine, notably since the rise of Monophysitism and Iconoclasm.

But the prince was not unaware of this either.

“If a thousand years say the church is unnecessary, they also say that the church has already become one with the empire. People have long accepted the church as part of their lives, and it’s undeniable that some prioritize the church over the empire.”

The prince confronted Plethon with reality.

“One ruler’s forceful change cannot easily alter people’s convictions. For the past thousand years, the church has been the unifying force of the empire, and now it stands as its final symbol. No exceptional ruler could change that.”

Indeed, even someone like him, who merely knew more than others, was no exception. No matter how outstanding or legendary a ruler might be, they couldn’t immediately change people’s perceptions. Aware of his limitations, the prince had come to meet Plethon.

“What a ruler like me can do is provide people like you with the time, place, and opportunity. It is scholars like you who bring about true transformation in an era.

Great scholar, lead the transformation of this age with your own hands.

It is the role of scholars to present and create a new focal point to replace the church and faith that have guided the empire for a thousand years.”

The church won’t leave the people’s side immediately. It will take a very long time for people to stand on their own will alone, without the church.

“…I now understand why people call you the last hope. You truly are the final hope for transforming this country. Please accept my loyalty, Your Highness. I will dedicate the rest of my life entirely to you.”

“It is an honor to have your support.”

The prince began to take that faint but definite first step.

Anything becomes difficult to manage after a war.

Especially since central Greece, comparable in size to Morea, was reclaimed all at once, the confusion and backlash were even greater.

Among these issues, two stood out: the restoration of the Parthenon church and the lack of control over newly emerging local powers in central Greece, along with the shortage of talented individuals. Establishing an academy emerged as a way to address both issues simultaneously.

However, even this establishment could not proceed immediately, as the obstacles lay not only in finances but also in disputes over who would be appointed as teachers.

When the suggestion to invite Plethon, who had recently begun to gain attention, was made, a loud outcry echoed. The anger behind the voice filled Mistra’s court with a chilling atmosphere.

The one voicing his anger was none other than Bishop Nikephoros. Known for his gentle nature and frequent role as a mediator in disputes, the bishop’s rare display of passion was notable.

Although the reactions of the retainers weren’t as intense, they were not exactly welcoming either. Their eyes, filled with doubt and suspicion, conveyed subtle reproach. This attitude from the retainers only bolstered the bishop’s position, making his voice rise even more.

“Your Highness, why would you choose such a man? Is he not someone even His Majesty, Emperor Manuel, was wary of?”

“I read the reform proposals he submitted and found them reasonable.

Upon realizing that the tax system, designed to prevent even a single penny from being lost, had instead become a harsh chain oppressing the free farmers, I resolved to abolish unnecessary and redundant taxes.

I discovered that I wasn’t alone in this opinion and recognized his ability and determination to carry out such reforms. With his reputation, there is no one more suited for the position of the academy’s teacher.”

As the empire’s decline became inevitable, class conflicts reached their peak. The reason this is spoken of in the past tense is that the overly strong ruling class had already suppressed all opposition. The people of the capital dismissed these as mere peasant revolts, failing to grasp the underlying message.

Those who sold their land to become tenant farmers to escape harsh taxes. Priest whose repeated acts of donation and funds had swollen their ranks. The excessive expansion of these two classes left no place for free farmers.

The peasant revolts that occurred during the empire’s collapse were the last uprisings of those enraged by this society and simultaneously a sign that they no longer had the strength to resist.

At least, that’s how it’s viewed.

The powerful local nobility in Morea alone reveals much. The empire’s failure was that all its rulers came from the same influential families. The former emperor, John Kantakouzenos, who had the ability and decisiveness to change this abnormal economic structure, failed to recognize the situation due to his aristocratic background.

In contrast, Plethon’s reform proposals accurately pinpointed this issue.

He also argued that the excessive centralization of power and administrative burden in the central government were causing a loss of administrative efficiency. Whether this opinion was true or not, the empire no longer had the strength to maintain absolute imperial rule.

Even in Morea, to quell the backlash from local powers and reorganize the state with new governance structures, town councils were being established. This alignment in reform direction between Plethon and myself is another reason for choosing him.

However, these rational reasons are blocked by a single point of dispute.

“But he is a heretic!”

The reason for the argument with Bishop Nikephoros.

The bishop’s intense anger stemmed from the actions of Plethon, the most renowned scholar of the Balkans, known as a pinnacle of Greek and Roman culture and a revivalist of ancient philosophy. This elderly scholar revered Plato so deeply that he even changed his name to Plethon, a homage to Plato. The reason why such a famous figure remained in enigma was due to the shocking claims he made.

He argued that the church was no longer necessary. When rumors spread that he even adhered to ancient paganism, the church began to monitor Plethon’s every move. As a result, Plethon had been living in seclusion, isolated from the world.

Bishop Nikephoros pointed this out precisely, raising his momentum.

“Not only did he make the outrageous claim that the church is unnecessary, but there are even rumors that he is a follower of paganism. How can Your Highness pretend not to know that merely bringing such a man into court would cast doubt on your faith? Have you not managed well enough against the Muslims until now?

Your Highness, please do not make a choice that would tarnish your honor and faith. I beg you not to ignore my plea, sincerely hoping that Your Highness will be the protector of the church.”

This is why the bishop’s words couldn’t be dismissed outright. Bringing or supporting someone suspected of heresy into the court would be an act condemned by the church. A compromise that would somewhat satisfy both the church and Plethon had to be found.

Judging by the current reactions, however, Bishop Nikephoros, as the church’s representative, would not easily back down.

In any case, persuading the church was necessary before meeting with Plethon.

Thus, it was time to play the largest card prepared in anticipation of opposition.

“While it’s true that Plethon’s heretical actions are suspicious, there is no definitive evidence yet. I will personally interrogate him on this matter, and if he has been misled by false knowledge of heresy, I will guide him back to the right path. However, it is natural that some will distrust him because of a momentary lapse.”

Although it seemed like a risky gamble, it wasn’t an entirely unreasonable one. After skillfully seizing the opportunity to reclaim central Greece and extend the empire’s influence into Epirus, the recent restoration of the Parthenon’s Church had also intensified the church’s support. Such an enormous gamble could be dangerous.

This wasn’t merely to appease the church’s power in Morea. The card to be played was also meant to check the political forces in the capital. Given that a long-term strategy was already in sight, it was inevitable that the central government of the empire and Morea would counterbalance each other.

This was because the central government, which preserved the glory and tradition of the thousand-year empire, viewed Morea, which had independently set out to reclaim the Balkans without its control, unfavorably.

The representative figure turning into an opponent was likely John. Although the number of those supporting this side had recently increased, many still sided with John. Therefore, this decision was necessary.

For the empire and the church, survival was as crucial as continuity.

“I intend to announce to the world the innocence and faith of Morea, including myself, through the establishment of a metropolitan seat.”

The atmosphere, which had grown cold, became heavy in a different sense. Bishop Nikephoros, unable to speak, simply stared, while only the tax collector, Adrianos, managed to stammer out a single word.

“Me-metropolitan seat…”

Adrianos had every reason to be shocked. The central government would do everything in its power to prevent this. The only way the capital governed Morea was through the religious fervor of the Bishopric. The establishment of a metropolitan seat would tip the scales of power in favor of Morea. However, this was a double-edged sword that could accelerate the empire’s division in the distant future.

Thus, Plethon was necessary.

A philosopher who would ensure that the church’s division did not lead to the empire’s fragmentation. A thinker who would propose a new ideology to bind the empire together for another millennium, replacing the church that had held the thousand-year empire together.

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TL : Wow, this chapter is confusing as hell if you’re not familiar with politics. Best of luck!

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While everyone was joyfully toasting and chatting, the prince was deeply engrossed in preparations to repel another Ottoman invasion.

The most pressing issue, undoubtedly, was figuring out how to retain the reclaimed cities. The local rulers, who had pledged their fragile oaths under threat, would likely cast them aside at the next Ottoman threat. Steps needed to be taken to prevent them from wavering.

Even though the new governing body called the “people’s assembly” had been introduced, most of the city’s old elite remained in place.

Until they fully settled in and developed loyalty to the empire, expecting these recently conquered cities to transform rapidly was overly optimistic. And this wasn’t the only problem; others loomed as well.

The resentment of Morea’s citizens towards Venetian merchants was intensifying by the day.

The joy of victory still suppressed this sentiment, but for how long? It was only natural to view Venice, enriched by its control of the Aegean Sea, with envious eyes—especially when the wealth they now enjoyed was seen as something rightfully belonging to Morea’s citizens.

Even though it was understood that the territories were yielded through agreements or transactions, controlling emotional resentment was another matter. From the prince’s perspective, who needed to maintain the alliance with Venice, this growing discontent was troubling. After all, he had introduced a duty-free policy to attract military action against the Ottomans.

At the time, it was an urgent necessity, but as time passed, it left a bitter taste. Venetian goods now dominated Morea’s streets, deepening economic dependency.

No doubt Venice had considered this as well, moving with the shrewd judgment typical of a nation driven by national interest. The prince, too, wished to rid Morea of Venetian influence, but…

If they were expelled, who would stand against the Ottomans?

Knowing that the empire desperately needed Venice, the Venetians could afford to be unyielding. Resolving the issue with Venice would only be possible when the empire became more self-reliant and Venice itself fell into crisis—a future still far off.

The final challenge was the shortage of bureaucrats and legal experts brought on by the rapid territorial expansion.

Despite the primacy of imperial authority, the empire had never abandoned its tradition of the rule of law. This tradition, stretching back to the days of the ancient republic, was seen as the foundation of the empire’s stability.

While the empire’s decline had led to a surge in private lawyers due to the inability to support all legal professionals, the collapse of organized educational institutions made it difficult to guarantee both the quality and supply of these professionals.

“Establishing an academy seems like the best solution…”

A comprehensive plan emerged in the prince’s mind: the creation of a specialized academy that could even accommodate foreigners. By encouraging the rulers of recently recaptured cities to send their children to study there, the academy could serve as both an educational institution and a means of securing hostages.

Through this education, these future leaders would naturally develop a fondness for Morea and loyalty to the prince, ultimately alleviating the shortage of bureaucrats and other skilled personnel.

If the academy were successfully established and attracted numerous foreigners, improving relations with Venice would become easier, as the plan was to entrust a sort of passenger service to Venice.

While it would be ideal to accommodate commoners as well, the academy would require operational funds, so it would likely have to select only the children of influential families. It was certain that these aristocrats, accustomed to luxury, would demand various entertainments for the long and tedious voyages.

However, hoping for such an outcome might be too much to ask.

Even if the latter goal wasn’t achieved, fulfilling the primary objective of securing hostages and future bureaucrats to strengthen control over the cities would be a significant accomplishment. With this thought, the prince leaned towards establishing the academy.

If it were any other ruler besides Konstantinos, the idea of an academy might never have been considered. Most would have focused all efforts on hastily raising an army to expel the Ottomans.

But the prince had never entertained such reckless thoughts from the beginning.

The Ottomans, having long since rooted themselves in the Balkans, had shifted their base from Asia Minor (Turkey) to the Balkans. If they sought the glorious throne of the millennium-old empire, it was certain they would also aim to seize Constantinople.

Would the Ottomans easily abandon the Balkans? Their resistance would undoubtedly be fierce. Two nations were locked in a struggle for the throne of the thousand-year empire; neither would concede.

Thus, the prince believed the struggle between the Ottomans and the empire would not end quickly.

Realistically, the empire had long been too weakened to drive out the Ottomans. More time was needed to restore the empire’s strength to the point where it could expel the Ottomans.

At the same time, the post-expulsion scenario also demanded attention. To revive a nation devastated by various calamities and civil wars, a sufficient pool of talents was essential.

The establishment of the academy would provide the strength to prevent the empire from collapsing in the long war. Just as the Ottomans had their elite Janissaries trained from a young age, the empire needed a comparable force.

The prince firmly believed that the foundation to reverse the imbalance in military power could stem from education. However, upon reaching this conclusion, he encountered the most significant obstacle in establishing the academy.

After much deliberation on how to overcome this challenge, the prince lowered his head with a somber expression.

“I have no idea which scholars to invite as teachers.”

The prince, who had fallen into this world—a visual novel world or perhaps the past—due to an unknown phenomenon, rarely leveraged the advantages of his origin. After all, most people only knew about the Hundred Years’ War when it came to the 15th century, and interest in Eastern Europe was unusual.

Even the prince himself was beginning to forget if he had ever lived in the future. His vast but shallow knowledge of the future had allowed him to accumulate cultural knowledge at an astonishing rate, and he was superior to present day scholars in many ways, but that was all. Knowledge that was too advanced often went uncomprehended.

One reason was that the prince had no time to apply his vast learning. Where was the time to write books when he was busy seeking alliances to confront the Ottomans?

Thus, a scholar who could best understand his current knowledge was needed.

Inevitably, the prince’s attention turned to the most renowned scholar in the Balkans of this era. Ironically, the scholar the prince focused on also regarded the prince as a worthy lord to serve due to his affection for the empire.

“For His Majesty’s well-being!”

With cheerful smiles, people with flushed cheeks twitched as they drank their fill of wine. Although they might suffer from hangovers later, they seemed unconcerned about the consequences. It was clear they didn’t want to waste their joyful day with unnecessary worries.

Athens, finally reclaimed after nearly 200 years.

Athens, long lost from the empire’s embrace, had truly returned through the restoration of the Church of the Parthenon. Today’s festival celebrated this restoration, and more broadly, the reclamation of central Greece. Naturally, the people of Mistra were overjoyed.

The imperial scholars who had fled to Morea shared the same sentiments.

“To think that you would achieve this much…”

Amidst the joyful, swaying crowd, a man murmured to himself. It had been ten years since he fled the declining capital and settled in Mistra.

Back then, disappointed by the carefree Prince Theodoros, he lived quietly. Adding to his despair, the new prince, Konstantinos, was barely ten years old.

He had lost hope and devoted himself solely to his studies.

Yet, ten years later, what did he see? The achievements of the young Prince Konstantinos made him feel foolish for his hasty judgments. Though criticized for his marriage issues, even that was aimed at securing a beneficial alliance for the empire.

There were rumors about a female mercenary captain, but they were baseless fabrications.

Upon closer examination, no ruler seemed as ideal as the current prince.

He was neither blinded by women nor consumed by excessive greed. He made bold decisions that could provoke political backlash and had the wisdom to exploit his opponents’ weaknesses.

How many such temperate yet passionate leaders existed? A young man who had forsaken personal desires, dedicating everything to save his crumbling homeland.

Perhaps this is why people respected the prince.

The passion that seemed to be fading was finally bearing fruit. The faint expectations placed on the perceptive child had grown beyond control.

Prince Konstantinos had become the last beacon of hope for the declining empire, the only leader with the capability to overcome numerous crises.

Only his presence could persuade the master.

Many scholars turned away, shaking their heads at the empire’s downfall, including the man’s mentor. A follower of ancient culture from the classical world, he once advocated for simplifying the tax system to escape the empire’s harsh financial policies but was ignored. He was the greatest scholar in the Balkans of his time.

“If only Master would assist His Majesty…”

The man, sharing his mentor’s lament for the faltering empire, grew fond of the prince, who was tirelessly working to revive it. Though he might not be capable, he believed his mentor, with his keen analytical skills, could help. After much deliberation, the man rose, deciding it was time to visit his isolated master.

• As a result of these events, Georgios Plethon, the man’s mentor, fell into an unusually long contemplation.

Though not one of his favourite students, few of his disciples, shunned by both the government and the church, remained. Pleased to see a student after so long, he listened to his tale and ended up here.

Though he had devoted himself to scholarship after turning away from the empire, he hadn’t entirely abandoned the world.

This aged but still brilliant scholar was well aware of the kind of person Prince Konstantinos was. Indeed, anyone who considered themselves Roman had likely though this: What if Prince Konstantinos had been the eldest son?

Plethon was among them.

The difference was that Plethon didn’t stop at mere regret; he sincerely believed it. Though he had no opportunity to express his views publicly, Plethon truly thought that if the empire hoped for revival, this was necessary, especially considering the prince’s abilities.

Over the past seven years, Prince Konstantinos has developed the previously insignificant standing army of Morea into a formidable force of 3,000.

Moreover, he demonstrated tolerance towards those who embraced the empire’s laws and decentralized some of the power long concentrated in the central government to local assemblies.

Given Plethon’s belief that the centralization of power led to frequent civil wars and corruption, it is natural for him to have a favourable view of the prince’s actions.

Despite being preoccupied with confronting the Ottomans, the prince paid meticulous attention to maintaining stability. Thanks to the well-stocked supplies accumulated over the years, there was minimal enlistment, and the disciplined military parades held before the citizens instilled confidence. Though not a master diplomat, the prince possessed the qualities of a commendable military leader.

His composed and solemn demeanor, combined with an confident presence, painted him as a commander who was unwaveringly confident in victory. Plethon was convinced that the prince was fully leveraging these qualities.

What of his private life?

Despite some unsavory rumors, the citizens could hardly imagine the prince leading a immoral lifestyle. Had he been so inclined, he would have already taken liberties with the maids, yet the reality was that he remained isolated in his office, rarely sparing even a glance.

The saying that he preferred to invest in strengthening a soldier’s armor rather than lavish decorations and ceremonies was no exaggeration.

This frugality, modesty, and asceticism embodied Plethon’s ideal ruler—a philosopher-king. Being deeply engrossed in ancient philosophy, Plethon had a strong desire for such a ruler. In the current era, if one were to choose the most philosopher-like sovereign, it would undoubtedly be Prince Konstantinos.

The issue, however, lay in whether he was skeptical of religion.

Plethon’s true reason for being shunned by the government and the church was not his advocacy for tax reform. He had argued that the church was no longer essential for the empire’s survival and had called for a return to ancient philosophy. His belief that the ancient paganism, once the heart of the classical world, was the key to reviving the empire had driven him into seclusion.

“The real question is how His Majesty would regard such ideas…”

Prince Konstantinos might be the ruler most likely to support Plethon. In an era where religious fervor verged on fanaticism, the fact that he had not launched widespread oppression against the Western Church was sufficient evidence.

Would the prince accept him?

For the first time in a long while, the old scholar felt a spark of hope and expectation.

“Hehehe… Hehehe…”

A woman stood before him, blissfully smiling, unaware of the drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her shoulder-length, soft blonde hair was cut just enough to avoid hindrance in fierce battles.

Though her blue eyes had dulled, they still shone beautifully. With her mouth closed, she could have been a cool beauty exuding firm resolve.

Her name was Ivania.

Ivania, who always seemed a bit off-order, was even more so today. Her goofy, slackened smile was enough to cause unnecessary misunderstandings if noticed by others.

It made him wonder if rewarding her for her merits had been a mistake, though the reward itself was admittedly weird.

“To think I would see such an embarrassed expression, something I thought I’d never witness again…”

Ivania, unconsciously wiping the drool that had reached her chin, now bore eyes more dangerous and dazed than before, emanating a predatory gaze. He suddenly recalled a fact he’d tried to forget by avoiding her: Ivania was a better fighter than he was.

“Just one more time…♡”

“No! Once is enough.”

He sternly cut off her request in a firm tone, but it was futile. Ivania, having lost her reason, charged straight at him. Startled, he braced himself to push her away, but the sweet scent wafting to his nose stopped him.

He had expected the sharp smell of sweat from Ivania, who was devoted to martial arts, but what was this sweet fragrance?

Ivania’s scent was surprisingly pleasant…

Not that he planned to indulge her whims.

“Get off, now!”

“Oh… my lord…”

As he forcibly pushed her away, Ivania’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. However, there was no time to hesitate. There was no longer any reason to keep Ivania close. The reward for her merits had just been given.

After she got her reward, she returned to her usual composed demeanor, showing the bearing of a true warrior. A woman who knows when to retreat is always admirable.

“I will have your financial reward prepared soon. Until then, continue leading the mercenaries and guarding the palace as usual.”

“For more efficient protection, I believe the distance between us should be much closer than it is now.”

If only she wouldn’t say such absurd things with that cool expression, she would be a truly reliable subordinate. It seemed the gods never granted perfection to humans. As he sighed, looking up at the skylight, the doors of the audience chamber opened. Approaching him was the Bishop of Mistra, Nikephoros, with neatly groomed facial hair and perceptive eyes.

“I have come to speak with you, my lord. And I see the mercenary captain is as lively as ever.”

“It’s been a while, Bishop. What brings you here?”

Ignoring Ivania’s antics, the bishop, understanding his intent, quietly got to the point.

“It concerns the Latins. There is no one unaware that Athens has returned to the empire under your command. It is time to restore things to their original state.”

“That is… a sensitive issue. You are aware of that?”

“It is a time for your decision, my lord.”

A decision, a decision indeed. Though he wasn’t keen on it, if the usually moderate Bishop Nikephoros spoke in such a manner, it likely reflected the people’s sentiments as well. Just when he thought he could rest, the burdens of practical matters emerged again.

The cause of his distress lay in the establishment of the Latin Empire by the Fourth Crusade two centuries ago.

The Latin Empire, serving as a puppet for Venice to replenish the Crusaders’ war expenses, had fractured the empire, taking sixty years to reclaim the capital. Everyone knew the throne’s takeover during this period ultimately led to national division.

Despite this, the matter was often silenced because it was the greatest stain and original sin of the current Palaiologos dynasty.

The Palaiologos dynasty is a line of overthrowers.

At the time, the Orthodox Church condemned this overthrowing, and in response, Michael VIII, the founder of the Palaiologos dynasty, sought to establish a church favourable to him by directly dethroning the patriarch. This act led to a division within the church.

Although the church has since regained its form, it remains clear that the Palaiologos were responsible for the division between the empire and the church.

Therefore, firmly establishing Orthodox traditions in the territories reclaimed from the Latins is essential. Given the heightened resentment towards the Western Church in reaction to the Latins, gaining the people’s support makes this a necessary step.

However, doing so would result in completely severing support from the West.

Defying the Pope’s intent to unify the Eastern and Western churches would leave only permanent estrangement. Even if they were lucky enough to defeat the Ottomans, Western support would be indispensable for fully driving them out.

“…I apologize, Bishop, but His Majesty was just discussing the allocation of rewards. While the issue with the church is significant, stabilizing the situation through post-war measures should come first, don’t you think?”

Unexpectedly, it was Ivania who threw a lifeline into the discussion. Even Nikephoros seemed to agree with this view, nodding once before turning back to him.

“Unless the issue with the church is resolved, the empire’s reconstruction will be perpetually delayed. Only Your Majesty can mend the church’s division. Please consider this.”

As the bishop departed, leaving these words behind, a sigh escaped him. The thought of the cautious approach needed to appease the subjects when accommodating the Latins of Achaea made it all the more exhausting.

His true desire was to avoid harsh measures against the Western Church—Catholicism—since severing support from the West was not an option. Yet, the people longed to expel the influence of both the Latins and the Western Church completely.

“…Perhaps converting the Parthenon church back to Orthodox customs might suffice.”

Once a temple of prophecy, it had become a Christian church in the Middle Ages. Transforming this ancient temple, now a church dedicated to the Virgin, into an Orthodox one might quell some of the people’s anger. It was a temporary solution, of course. As he though this over, a peculiar sight caught his attention, diverting his thoughts. Naturally, the one blocking his view was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed mercenary captain—Ivania.

“Your Majesty, shouldn’t we finish discussing my reward first?”

“I’ll grant you an additional ten pounds of gold. Is that sufficient now?”

“…Tch.”

“The Empire’s victory means the Ottoman’s defeat.”

Since the first Ottoman drew his sword, no one but Timur had managed to challenge the Ottomans. For centuries, it seemed as though they were slowly tightening their grip on their prey, as foretold by ancient prophecy.

Yet, just when they thought it was the end, the prey struggled, and the grip on its throat loosened. While the Ottomans had won, anyone calling this a victory would face harsh criticism.

Hungary, fearing Ottoman expansion, intervened to make Serbia a vassal and counter the Ottomans, but failed to fully subjugate Serbia. Additionally, the Empire, which had been waiting for an opportunity, swiftly seized control of southern Greece. Their delayed response only brought empty victory.

What more could be said?

He had failed. Was it Constantine? The moment he realized that his influence over southern Greece was lost due to the shrewd Crown Prince’s brilliant decision, he knew it. More valuable than the meager war compensation, the war had cost him his prestige and influence.

Seeing the Ottomans’ feebleness, the Christians would unite once more. Naturally. The fear instilled by power vanishes the moment that power disappears. This logic was not exclusive to Christians.

The Sultan realized it.

His unstable political position had collapsed. The last barrier protecting his life had crumbled. Though no one explicitly said it, their eyes spoke volumes. His courtiers blamed him with cold, accusatory gazes, questioning the meager results of his diplomacy, which had leaned toward Christian sympathies.

How could he not be enraged? How could they display such arrogance toward a Sultan? Yet, the Sultan did not rebuke them. More accurately, he could not. He was afraid. The reality that the once-revered name he thought would make the world bow was now a blade aimed at his neck.

The moment his authority was openly denied, everything would end.

The court’s atmosphere had long since shifted. Those who had shrewdly observed the political landscape turned their backs on the Sultan. Those who had hesitated followed suit. Soldiers, who had scorned the Sultan’s pacifist policies, had lost their expectations long ago and sought other possibilities. They turned to the new rising star, believed by all to be a strong ruler.

“…A father ousted by his own son.”

His son, who had long criticized him for his complacency and consistently shown ambition for the throne. Unfortunately, his son was right. Unlike himself, who had become content and satisfied with the title of Sultan, his son—Murad—was a ruler armed with fervent religious commitment and talent. Murad had become an exemplary successor, possessing all the qualities necessary for governance.

A wide array of abilities, a broad support base, bold decisiveness, and the ruthlessness to even kill his kin.

Murad would never tolerate anyone who threatened his power. If Murad held him responsible for the recent failure and demanded him to step down, he would surely leave no room for his father to interfere in politics again. The Sultan could already guess the method Murad would employ.

“A slave’s life is worth a few coins. The Sultan isn’t worth much more.”

The cold words muttered as Murad turned away still echoed in his mind. Murad and he were no longer father and son. They were no longer simply Sultan and prince. They were competitors, one trying to hold on and the other trying to seize the singular throne.

Therefore, when Murad seized power, the young prince would undoubtedly erase all traces of the Sultan. The mass purge would be justified as distinguishing himself from a failed Sultan, but its essence would be to solidify his power. The Sultan knew he would certainly die as a threat to Murad.

Surprisingly, his heart was calm. It was his failure, and he would repay it with his life. Such was the mindset of a ruler. The one who held all the power bore all the responsibility. Thus, he could face his death with dignity. His end was near. The Sultan closed his eyes gently and listened quietly.

The sound of dozens of footsteps drew near, disrupting the oppressive silence of the court as they boldly walked upon the red carpet.

The Sultan slowly opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the man leading the group. How could he turn away? The man, arrogantly looking down at him from the forefront, was the son he had once cherished most.

“Let me ask you directly.”

What was Murad like as a child? He tried to peer into the scattered old memories beyond Murad’s stern face, but too much time had passed. Between them now was only a deep void filled with darkened, twisted greed, distorting even the bond of father and son.

“Where is Mustafa?”

Murad’s cold, formal tone prompted the Sultan to smile.

“If you’re referring to my youngest brother, didn’t he seek asylum in the Empire?”

“I’m not asking about your brother. I’m asking where my youngest brother has gone.”

Murad’s intention was clear. He sought to prevent a civil war between the warriors of Europe and the Sultan of Asia Minor. Before foreign powers could intervene, before factions could divide for their gain, Murad intended to stabilize the succession by eliminating all potential threats. The Sultan knew this all too well.

If one is the Sultan, how should they respond?

The Sultan knows the answer well. If the prosperity and stability of the Ottoman Empire are truly desired, then offering one’s life willingly while allowing Murad to fulfill his desires would be necessary. This consideration would be realized through a ruthless method—personally eliminating his own children. For the sake of the nation, it is only natural.

A Sultan must make sacrifices. A Sultan must endure loss. A Sultan must be willing to offer even his own children as sacrifices for power.

Thus, the decision was made.

“Murad, what do you believe a Sultan is?”

“A Sultan is the one who acts as the representative of Allah’s revelations on Earth, governing the people according to Allah’s will. Additionally, the Sultan is an architect of prosperity and a conqueror tasked with converting heretics.”

“Indeed… I have failed in fulfilling any of the Sultan’s duties.”

From the moment he was swayed by personal emotions, he was not fit to be a Sultan. The Sultan judged himself as such. His tender nature could never muster the resolve to sacrifice his children for power. Thanks to this, he soon realized.

The roles of a Sultan and a father can never coexist. Perhaps that’s why Manuel seems even more admirable.

‘Manuel, my other father… you chose to be an emperor over being a father.’

He repeatedly admired at the strong will of Manuel, who was prepared to abandon his own child for the sake of the empire’s reconstruction. The determination of the aged emperor who sustained the empire for decades was that firm. Even if he was a nemesis, such a stance was worthy of respect. In contrast, he would forever be criticized as an inadequate ruler.

“Mustafa left to meet his patron.”

The sharp Murad quickly grasped what Mehmed’s words implied. Through a series of actions, he understood who Mustafa’s patron was.

“…So that’s why. That’s why… you gave up reclaiming southern Greece?”

Mehmed silently affirmed.

Even when forced into a two-front war, punishing the weak Morea would have been possible once the peace treaty succeeded. With a pretender crossing over, it provided a compelling reason for war.

A naval defeat could always be offset by victories on land, couldn’t it? Yet, Sultan Mehmed permitted the empire’s victory. Why? Why open the lifeline of a fallen empire at the cost of everything the Ottomans had built?

“Murad, you will never easily kill Mustafa.”

“You should never have become Sultan. No, it’s more accurate to say you should never have remained Sultan.”

The sword at his waist slid smoothly out of its sheath, showcasing its sleek curve. Mehmed had long abandoned any lingering regrets.

Even if Murad himself took no action, Murad’s followers, aware of Mehmed’s significant betrayal, would not leave him be.

“I will be the next Sultan, Mehmed.”

As Murad slowly approached, Mehmed fully leaned back against the throne. He trusted that Manuel would protect his beloved youngest son. People might scorn him for abandoning his duties as Sultan, preoccupied solely with the safety of his youngest. But it didn’t matter.

If he couldn’t protect him as a Sultan…

He would protect him as a father.